


A Gentleman's Wager

by ryoflame



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 10:04:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2105595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryoflame/pseuds/ryoflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cruhteo has something Saazbaum wants, aka Slaine is too pretty to be just a soldier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gentleman's Wager

The holographic chessboard between them casts a pale glow in the otherwise dimly lit room as Cruhteo sits with arms crossed and brow knitted in concentration, observing the pieces on the board and contemplating his next move. Chess is like any war, he thinks; there is strategy to consider, there is there are future consequences for every move. You have to take into account how your opponent may think, how he may react to any of your attempts to thwart him.

If there is one thing Count Cruhteo is good at it’s a strategic battle, but the man across from him has been raised to be just as good as he is and he knows the other is not to be taken lightly.

Saazbaum watches him in silence as Cruhteo considers. The man is comfortably seated in his own fortress in orbit halfway around the earth but the image being cast into the seat in front of Cruhteo looks so solid he might as well have actually been there in person.

It’s Saazbaum who finally breaks the silence, leaning back in his chair to cross one leg over the other as he clasps his hands over one knee. ‘Say, why don’t we make a little wager?’

Cruhteo’s countenance doesn’t change as he reaches out and takes a knight on the board, moving it with certainty. Neither man ever makes a move unless they are sure of it—something that doesn’t only apply to the chessboard—and there is no hesitation in his body language.

Saazbaum watches him, smiling mildly, though the gesture doesn’t quite reach the coldness of his eyes as the silence stretches. ‘Well?’

‘I do not place wagers, Count Saazbaum. A wager indicates that one is uncertain of a situation’s outcome, and therefore I am not a betting man.’ Now it’s Cruhteo’s turn to recline in his seat, tapping the head of his cane against the armrest as he meets the other man’s gaze.

Saazbaum scoffs, making no move to turn his attention to the chessboard just yet. ‘Your self-righteousness borders on being nauseating, Count Cruhteo. A wager isn’t a sign of weakness, it is a sign of trust and respect between gentlemen.’

The two men stare coldly at one another above the holographic board and neither of them bring up the fact that trust and respect are non-existent between them. Saazbaum would like nothing better than to stomp Cruhteo’s faction into the dirt and Cruhteo trusts Saazbaum about as far as he can throw him.

But their relationship is eternally balanced on the double-edged sword of Vers politics where appearances are hugely important, where warring families smile and embrace one another in the open and slide knife-blades between one another’s ribs in the dark.

‘It’s your move.’ Cruhteo says coolly, the tapping of his cane ceasing for a moment.

Saazbaum’s small smile fades and his eyes narrow slightly. ‘No wager, then?’

‘You have nothing that I want.’

The slight doesn’t go unnoticed and Saazbaum’s hand curls into a loose fist as he forces a chuckle. ‘Don’t be that way, Count. I know for a fact you are envious of at least one of the Kataphrakts aboard my ship, how does that sound as collateral?’

Cruhteo searches the other’s countenance for any signs of treachery; a Kataphrakt is a large piece to wager, especially if Saazbaum is referring to one of the elite machines instead of their generic fleet units. Cruhteo has never been envious of anything Saazbaum has had but he doesn’t argue the point; protests against idle jabs such as that make a man seem overly defensive and weak. There is certainly no downside to winning a Kataphrakt; if they are able to pilot it with one of their own then it gives Cruhteo’s faction just that little bit more power.

Saazbaum can see the other man working out the pros and cons in his mind and he waits a moment before he sighs dramatically and shrugs. ‘Ahh, it’s fine. Don’t worry about the wager, I only thought it might add a little edge to our usual games.’

Cruhteo knows it’s bait, but his curiosity wins over and he takes it. ‘But what if you were to win? What do I have that _you_ are envious of, Count Saazbaum?’

Nothing Saazbaum wants to admit to in as many words, Cruhteo thinks as he watches the other man’s face twist with the effort to maintain his dignity at the phrasing.

‘How about your Terran?’

Cruhteo doesn’t bother to maintain his stoicism as his eyebrows arch in surprise. There was a lot he had expected Saazbaum to ask of him. Slaine Troyard—the young man who tutored the Princess—was not one of those things. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘It isn’t for me,’ Saazbaum scoffs as he waves a dismissive hand. ‘It’s for one of my officers. The Terran was on board with him once for a mission and he wishes to have him back. The officer has been very useful to me and I hope to reward him, and since this was the only thing he asked for I thought it wouldn’t be a problem.’

Cruhteo considers this as he recovers from the surprise of the other’s proposition. ‘Slaine is a low-ranking soldier, barely more than a technician. You needn’t bet against me for his services, you need only ask, I don’t mind lending him to you during the war.’

‘No,’ Saazbaum shakes his head. ‘Not on a loan, I wish to take him aboard my own ship, he would be a permanent addition. This soldier has become… fond of him. He wishes to keep the boy—for his own uses, you understand.’

Cruhteo’s eyes narrow as he _does_ begin to understand the situation. ‘He is not mine to give.’

‘Don’t be absurd. He may be the Princess’ playmate but ultimately he is under your watch and there isn’t going to be any argument if he were transferred.’

‘I think _he_ may have something to say about it.’

Waving a hand dismissively, Saazbaum looks unimpressed. ‘He’s a Terran, he does as he’s told like the compliant little dog that he is.’

While Cruhteo agrees with that much, he feels a small spark of irritation at Saazbaum’s aloof attitude; it’s all good and well for Cruhteo himself to handle Slaine the way the Terran boy deserves, but it feels suspiciously like Saazbaum is stepping on Cruhteo’s territory and the Vers aristocrat doesn’t like it.

‘That child is a soldier, not a plaything to be used for the pleasure of a man I have no connection to.’

Saazbaum snorts a laugh. ‘Why are you so defensive about this, Cruhteo? Soldiers are a dime a dozen, if it’s such a bother to you I can trade you a handful of mine so I can keep my better officers happy. You’re putting up a fair fight for the sake of a _Terran_.’ His eyes narrow contemplatively. ‘Have you already resigned yourself to the fact you will _lose_ this game?’

‘There’s no need to bait me into an argument.’ Cruhteo replies crisply, indicating the board. ‘Make your move before I get bored of this.’

‘Are you taking the wager? One of my Kataphrakts for your Terran boy. In my opinion it’s obscenely in your favour.’

Cruhteo observes the board. He makes a mental note of the different paths Saazbaum could take and he knows the other is aware he’s doing it. The game is currently relatively even; only a couple of pieces have been taken, sacrificed for the sake of overall victory.

Cruhteo wonders if Slaine will end up as such a sacrifice.

'If it will get you to finally make a move then fine.' he replies testily, and the smile that stretches across Saazbaum's face makes Cruhteo wonder if the man is making the offer on behalf of another soldier after all.

The other Count leans over to take a piece from the board, moving to arrogantly take one of Cruhteo's bishops, the piece moving to join the other fallen soldiers at the side of the board. 'Wonderful.'

Cruhteo can see the man has his heart set on this, there is an eager light in the other's eyes that wasn't there before. He draws in a slow breath and leans forward to observe the board carefully as he considers his next move.

It's an hour later when the killing strike occurs.

Saazbaum's expression is tight and there are beads of sweat at his temples, his hands clasped in his lap so tightly they tremble.

'Checkmate.' when Cruhteo declares it, his voice is cool and composed but he feels something new and different that he's never had before during their many games. He and Saazbaum are usually quite evenly matched when it comes to chess, but this time as the holographic board flickers and then declares him the winner Cruhteo feels an unmistakable swelling of victory.

He straightens, staring across at the other man who looks back with hatred in his gaze. 'I expect that you will swiftly send me the specs of the Kataphrakts you currently have aboard so that I may choose one at my leisure?'

Saazbaum stands, his hands balled into fists at his sides before he manages to regain his composure, the only thing betraying his anger being the look of venom in his gaze and the slightest strain in his voice when he speaks. 'Of course, Count Cruhteo. I am a man of my word.'

'As am I.' Cruhteo also stands, bowing slightly. 'Perhaps next time we may wager something again.'

Saazbaum snorts in derision before his image flickers and vanishes, leaving Cruhteo alone in the chamber. He still feels the elation at his win and it's a foreign yet not unpleasant sensation, one that he savours as he leaves the chamber to head back to the main bridge. He wonders why this time, and not all other times, victory feels so sweet.

He's nearly at the bridge when he meets Slaine in the corridor. The young Terran looks startled before he snaps to attention, stepping out of Cruhteo's way. When the Count stops in front of him instead of walking by as if he doesn't exist, the boy looks even more nervous and immediately drops his gaze down to the floor, standing rigid with his hands behind his back.

Cruhteo reaches out and seizes the child's face in one gloved hand, yanking his chin up to observe him as Slaine's eyes widen, darting about as if to try and focus anywhere but the Count's face. Turning Slaine's head first one way, then the other, Cruhteo carefully examines him before he finally lets him go.

'No,' he muses thoughtfully. 'I do not really understand the appeal.'

And he continues on his way, leaving Slaine startled and trembling in his wake.


End file.
